An Enchanted Sorting
by ashleewframe
Summary: Best friends Emma and Killian are sorted into Hogwarts houses via a more…interactive Sorting Hat quiz. One-shot. Based off of potter more questions.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Once Upon a Time, I do not own anything from the Harry Potter franchise, I do not own Barnes & Noble, I do not own the Princess Bride, and I do not own the Pottermore questions/quiz. *has existential crisis over all the things I do not own*

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So I had this idea randomly, and felt so inspired to write this, that it was created in only a few hours. Basically, Emma and Killian are sucked into the computer and have to do the trials of the Pottermore test. I only did a few of the questions (some of them would have been too difficult to write out, like the nightmare thing, and the superpower thing) but I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **The Enchanted Quiz**

"Make sure you keep your door open!" Mary Margaret called as Emma Charming raced up the stairs, her best friend Killian Jones in tow.

"Yeah Mom, of course!" Emma agreed, pulling Killian into her bedroom and shutting the door with vigor.

"Emma!" Her mother shouted in warning, but Emma was too busy giggling to care that she was probably on her last strike of the day—and it wasn't even noon. Killian was panting, red-faced, having been dragged down the couple of blocks between their houses, and up the stairs in record time. He looked like he was trying to reprimand her for not listening to her mother—Killian was oft to doing that—but could not get the words out. Emma waited, gasping for breath as well, while Killian righted himself.

"You—you shouldn't—you should listen—to—to your mother—" Killian finally panted, turning around to crack the door open before collapsing beside Emma on her bed. Emma rolled her eyes, but didn't comment. The weekend was too good of a weekend to be upset over the little things like doors opening and closing.

While at Killian's house, Emma had eaten no fewer than five of the best, most succulent chocolate chip cookies, freshly baked by Ms. Jones. Yesterday had been Killian's older brother's birthday, so she had gotten to eat cake, soda, ice cream, and all kinds of junk food that was not generally kept in the Charming's whole-foods kitchen. Plus, Emma's party favor had had bubblegum, stickers, and a free-entry ticket for the fair that Killian and Emma would be going to later in the day. What more could an eleven year old ask for?

Well, maybe a hundred-and-fifty dollar gift-card to Barnes & Noble, so that she could stock up on the latest fantasy books, but that was beside the point.

"What do you want to do while we wait for my Dad to get home?" Emma wondered. Being eleven-year olds, they were tied to whoever had a car when they wanted to go places that were not in biking distance. The fairgrounds was nearly fifteen miles away, and certainly not within biking distance.

"I dunno," Killian muttered, turning his big blue eyes on Emma. "What d'you want to do?"

Emma huffed. Killian was always like this. He was her best friend in the world—in the _universe_ even—but he couldn't make a decision on what the pair of them should do if his life depended on it. Usually it worked out for Emma—she generally preferred to make the decisions, thank you very much. But days like these, when all _she_ wanted to do was go to the fair, it became a bother.

And then an idea popped into her head.

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed, sitting up so quickly that her light blonde hair fell into her face. She pushed it away absent-mindedly. "Liam's _special friend_ Milah was talking about this online quiz which sorts you into a Hogwart's house, as if you were _actually_ going there! We should take it!" Emma frowned. "But we'll have to see if Mom will let us use the computer."

Killian, for his part, was blushing furiously. "She's not his special friend," he mumbled, crossing his arms. Emma just giggled. Killian was always jealous that his older brother had a girlfriend. It probably didn't help that Emma was _sure_ Killian had a crush on Milah too—but Emma wasn't going to tease him about that.

"Come on, Killy. Let's go ask."

* * *

"Do you want to go first, or shall I?" Killian asked. They both sat in the dining room before the desktop, the first question of the Sorting Hat Quiz ready for the clicking; _Heads or Tails?_ Killian didn't think it was a very revealing question. He'd choose tails, mostly because whenever he and Emma played Heads or Tails, she would pick heads.

"You can go first," Emma offered. "I know you're going to pick tails, though," she continued, proving how well she knew him. They'd been best friends ever since they had met in the first grade.

Killian had just moved to Storybrooke, Maine, from Dublin with his family, and they had 'clicked' at once. There was just something very friendly about a little blonde girl offering to beat up the kids who were picking on him for his accent. That, and Killian was pretty sure Emma wouldn't take 'no' to their friendship for an answer. All in all, Killian was glad Emma had stuck up for him, not matter how much he insisted he could've handled himself.

 _Appearances can be deceiving_ came to mind whenever he thought of Emma. She looked for all the world to be an innocent little girl—long blonde hair, big green eyes and bright, rosy cheeks. But she was one of the bravest, smartest, and kindest people Killian knew. He felt lucky to have her as his best friend.

Leaning across her to grab the mouse, Killian clicked on 'tails,' and then the next button. The next question wanted to know if he preferred the moon or the stars—that was easy, too; the stars of course. Emma probably felt the same, though she didn't say anything. After that, a question came up about what Killian would like the study at Hogwarts the most. That took him a moment, but he finally chose to click Broom Riding. He'd always been jealous that the witches and wizards got the opportunity to fly like that. He clicked next, and expected to move on to the next question like he had every other time he'd clicked 'next.'

What happened instead made his stomach drop to the floor.

It started out on the computer screen, and looked no different than any other animation. The screen became a swirl of purple ink and glitter, whirling around the screen in a cyclone patter. But before long, the cyclone came closer, closer, until not only was it swirling in the computer screen, but on the desk as well—and before Killian could shout for help from Emma's mom, he and Emma were sucked up into the vortex.

Emma blinked, looking around wildly at their new surroundings. She was gripping Killian's hand tightly, and she didn't know whose palm was shaking—perhaps it was both. Her heartbeat was ringing in her ears, too fast, too loud—everything was too quiet.

They were in a small room, the size of Emma's bedroom. It was very plain; the walls were painted light, salmon pink, and the ceiling was white. There was a door directly across from them, and a table in the center of the room with a tiny clouded vial shaped like a heart. Inside, there was a light pink liquid.

"Killian?" Emma questioned breathlessly.

"Emma?" Her friend replied.

"Where are we?"

There was a significant pause. She heard Killian swallow, and reply "I don't know."

Taking a deep breath, Emma forced herself to let go of Killian's hand. In a few small steps, she was across the room. She tried opening the door, but found that it was locked. Her heart rate never slowed—she could feel adrenaline pumping through her veins, could feel the start of panic swelling in her gut.

"'Smell me,'" Killian spoke from behind Emma.

"Now's not the time to judge body odor," Emma reprimanded Killian, rolling her eyes.

"No!" Her friend replied, sounding offended. Emma turned around to find him holding the bottle up to his nose. Holding her breath, she waited for her friend to pass out from his gullibleness—who listens to random suspicious bottles in potentially dangerous places? Killian Jones, apparently.

Emma stopped herself from yelling at him for his decision when he let out a groan—a good groan, not a groan of pain, though. The kind of groan that Emma made whenever she tasted Ms. Jones' cookies, or when she jumped into her pool on a hot summer day. Not the kind of groan she made whenever she fell of her bike, or stubbed her toe on the living room table.

Hesitantly, Emma inched her way towards Killian and the vial. It didn't take her a lot of inching—the room was miniscule, after all. Killian wordlessly handed Emma the vial, his fingers brushing hers as they passed the tiny vial. Emma eyed it cautiously, holding it with utmost care. She glanced at Killian quickly, before looking back down at the vial. It was no larger than her pinkie finger, it weighed as much as a couple of quarters, and the liquid inside looked thick. Before she could lose her courage, Emma took a swift sniff—and quickly groaned.

It smelled…perfect. So wrapped up in the scent was she, she didn't even hear the door's lock click open, the door swinging outward.

It smelled salty, like the open ocean, and she could swear that it had bottled wind within it. It smelled like her father's leather boots, like the dusty smell of library books, and some sort of intangible scent that reminded her of—

Squeaking, Emma quickly placed the vial back on the table. Her cheeks were pinking, and she had trouble meeting Killian's eyes. Because that fifth, intangible, indescribable scent…smelled just like it did when Emma had her nose buried in Killian's shoulder, or when they were snuggled in his bed while watching movies. Would Killian realize the same?

"Amazing, isn't it?" Killian said with a grin. His round cheeks were pink, too.

"Yeah," Emma spoke through her teeth, turning away, and for the first time seeing that the door was open. "It smelled…great. Come on. I don't know what's going on, but there's nowhere to go but out—let's see where the path takes us."

* * *

Swallowing nervously, Killian followed his friend through the doorway. He hoped that she didn't realize what his blush was for.

When he smelled the liquid, it smelled incredible—like the sea, salty like the open ocean, and inexplicably as if wind had been bottled. It smelled like the forest, the dry leaves crackling underfoot, moss growing over everything. It smelled like hot chocolate and cinnamon—but there was another scent, more…intangible than the others. It had taken Killian only a moment to recognize, for it was a scent he had known intrinsically for the past five years. It smelled just like Emma.

Shaking himself, Killian tugged the sleeve of his dark blue shirt over his hand, then raced after Emma. She was waiting for him, impatiently tapping her foot. They were standing before three distinct paths, with a plain white sign instructing the pair to "Choose a path; the left leads through a forest, the middle leads to the sea, and the right leads to a castle."

Killian looked to his left. The pathway was a boardwalk pathway, thick brush on either side. In the distance, he could see sturdy trees of brown and green. In the middle, the path was made of sand, light shrubbery lining the passage. To the right, there was cobblestone, lined with bright tulips. Killian knew immediately which path he would chose. The only trouble was getting Emma to agree.

"We should go see the castle," she stated in awe. Her green eyes were wide, and she was staring down the cobblestone path with longing.

It was no secret to Killian that Emma was a secret romantic—she loved the idea of cobblestone pathways, of distant castles and moonlit walks on the beach. He knew that she wouldn't be able to resist the pathway that led to adventure. But he had to show her reason.

"Emma—where do you live."

Emma hardly took her eyes from the path to the right. "In Storybrooke, Killy, just like you."

"Okay, and the water is _right down the street_ from where you live, right?"

Her eyes flashed to him. There was conflict in them, but finally, she tossed her head back and sighed. "Fine," Emma agreed with a whine in her tone. "Let's go down the stupid path to the stupid sea."

Killian held out his hand, and Emma took it with an eye roll. Even though she was obviously reluctant to listen to Killian, she held his hand gently, lacing her slim fingers through his own. Together, they stepped onto the sandy trail, and started walking towards the sea.

The smell was incredible. The wind brought the salty scent of the ocean to them, mixed with the earthiness of the sand, and the smell of the beach-y shrubbery as perfect. The temperature had gone up several degrees from the slight chill of the room with the good-smelling liquid, and Killian found himself rolling up his sleeves very quickly. It had been warm at Emma's house, but this was ridiculous. And the air—it was so humid that their clothes were sticking to their bodies!

The trail continued on for about a quarter of a mile, at which point Emma started complaining that there was sand getting in her socks, before it finally stopped at an invisible wall and an inexplicable doorway. There was some sort of clear barrier blocking them from going around the door, but at the same time, the door didn't appear to lead anywhere except the path they'd been following originally. Swallowing, Killian glanced at Emma. She had a determined look about her. Stepping forward, she let go of his hand and opened the door.

* * *

Emma was amazed at the impossible room before her. Not because it was grandiose or wonderful or anything like that—no, she was amazed simply because it existed. On the outside, there was no inclination that the room existed. There had been an invisible wall that refused to let them pass by the door, and the room was not visible when looking sideways at the door either. But there it was.

The room, in fact, was as plain as the first room they'd appeared in. The walls were all painted a pale gold, but the ceiling was a mirror. There was no source of light in the room, but it was bright enough to see in anyways. On the opposite side of the room, there was another door. Emma didn't even have to try it to know that it would be locked until they followed the instructions that sat before the four goblets.

Indeed, in the middle of the room, there were four large glass goblets. The first was foaming slightly, and contained a brilliant liquid reminiscent of liquid mercury. It sparkled effervescently, as if it were made up of ground up diamonds, and didn't have any particular smell. Next to it was an eggplant-colored beverage that smelled heavenly—like the overripe plums Emma would pick at her grandparent's house, and the most decadent of chocolate possible. It had a very thick consistency, like melted chocolate.

The other two goblets had cards lying next to them. The first said 'Causes sun spots to dance around the room.' It was a brilliant gold, as pure as the gold in Ms. Jones' earrings. The second said 'Gives the drinker strange visions' and was an inky black. It gave off an air of mystery to it.

"They're probably poisoned," Killian stated warily. Emma couldn't find it within herself to disagree.

"Let's try the door again," Emma ordered, and together they began pulling on the handle, kicking and pounding on the door, and shouting for help. Nothing worked.

"I told you!" Emma exclaimed. "At least going down the castle path, there might have been people! We're obviously not anywhere near Storybrooke—it's much colder there."

Killian didn't voice the agreement that Emma saw in his expression. Instead, he said "Okay, well let's go back and—" but he stopped. Emma turned around, and felt her heart rate pick up again—the doorway they'd entered had disappeared.

Emma swallowed. "Well, I guess we've only got one choice." Together, they looked at the goblets once more.

Silence settled upon the pair for what felt like an hour to Emma. Really, they probably only spent five minutes eyeing the goblets with distaste. Finally, Emma sighed, and grabbed up the nearest goblet, preparing to take a swig.

"Emma!" Killian exclaimed, taking the drink from her. "Not that one! It's a hall-halucin—halluco—"

"Hallucinogenic," Emma corrected. She'd heard the word a bunch of times, usually whenever her father was talking about his work at the police station. She looked at the goblet warily, before taking it back from Killian and placing it gently on the table. Perhaps he was right. Her curiosity was urging her to drink it, but she really did want to survive this room. So instead, she took the golden drink that would cause sun spots to dance across the room.

Killian still looked wary, but he didn't object to her second choice. Quietly, he picked up the drink that looked like it was made out of diamonds.

"Bottoms up," they said together, and immediately took drinks from their respective goblets.

Emma's tasted warm and cozy. A sense of delightful bliss swept through her, and she couldn't help but grin through the experience. It taste like peaches and citrus fruit, and when she opened her eyes, tiny suns were dancing around the room like little fireflies. Emma giggled.

Killian, for his part, looked as if he enjoyed his drink as well. Emma didn't point out the silvery milk mustache he was sporting, only giggled some more, and then outright laughed as the tiny suns formed into a halo above Killian's head. Killian asked what she was laughing at, but she could only clutch her stomach and wave her hands until the tiny spots of light started to fade away.

When they were gone, Emma straightened. Her eyes met Killian's, and together they marched to the door.

* * *

Thankfully, it didn't seem like they needed to drink the entire contents of the goblets—the door opened without a hitch. Together, Emma and Killian stepped through the opening.

They immediately entered into an enchanting garden. Glittering fairies were flittering about, dancing in the flowerbeds and playing hide and seek in Emma's hair. Emma didn't seem to notice, but Killian did—and he took it upon himself to swat away one that had been about to bite Emma's neck, only grimacing when Emma gave him one of her looks.

Together, they stepped into the garden. Everything was serene. A light breeze drifted through the garden, carrying the scents of fruits and flowers and clean soil. Killian closed his eyes for a brief moment, relishing in the beauty of the smell alone. Then he felt Emma tugging at his hands, and had to open them to see what she wanted.

There were four main attractions to the garden. There was a magnificent apple tree that had a trunk as thick as Killian's waist, long branches arching upwards, decorated with silvery leaves that shimmered in the sunlight. The apples were the largest Killian had ever laid his eyes on, and were a shining gold. Emma was trying to get him to go in that direction, but Killian held his ground, until finally she sped off on her own.

Next to the tree, almost hidden behind a rosebush, there were some fat, fire-truck red toadstools that appeared—to Killian—to be chatting amongst themselves. Their gaping mouths flapped open and shut, either way, and he _could_ hear a bit of noise coming from them. But they certainly did not intrigue Killian the most.

Standing watch over a small pond was the statue of an old man wearing robes and a pointed hat, holding a long crooked wand. His eyes seemed to twinkle, which made Killian quite curious. That wasn't what intrigued him the most, either, though.

Instead, Killian went to investigate the small pool of water that the statue was standing guard over. It was a brilliant blue, a much prettier color than Storybrooke's waters. It was lined with cattails and palm fronds, but there was space enough for Killian to kneel beside it and stare into its depths. Inside the pool, near the very bottom—and it couldn't have been more than a foot and a half deep—there was some swirling, luminous in quality. Killian started to reach his hand in, when suddenly—

"Killian!" Emma shouted, her voice frantic. Killian shot to his feet at once, looking over at his longtime friend.

Emma was dangling precariously from one of the highest branches of the tree, barely hanging on with one leg thrown over the branch, and one hand grasping desperately to find purchase elsewhere. Her other leg seemed to be caught on another branch, and her right arm was flailing about, really only making her precarious position even worse.

Killian rushed over to her, but he wasn't nearly as good a climber as she was, and he didn't know if he could climb that high and make himself useful to Emma at the same time.

She was probably five feet up—Killian didn't know if it was safe for her to try and jump to him from this height, but he could at least try and break her fall. There did not appear to be any adults around—except for the old wizard with his twinkling eye, and he was a statue for goodness sake!—so Killian had to do this. For Emma.

Taking a deep breath, Killian opened his arms wide, positioning himself directly below Emma. Hopefully he would be strong enough to catch her and stay standing, but if he wasn't, the position would allow him to break her fall as well. He didn't want to think about being crushed himself, but he _had_ to help Emma. Mary Margaret and David would _hate_ him if he let anything happen to their daughter, and he actually really like Emma's parents, so he hoped that Emma would be okay at least.

Taking another deep breath, Killian braced himself. "Let go, Emma. I'll catch you."

Emma didn't have to be told twice. Killian must have said precisely the right words, because not a second later she had let go and was tumbling through the branches towards him. Killian cringed, but held his ground, ready to catch her.

Just as Killian was about to be impacted, Emma stopped falling. Slitting one eye open, he saw that she'd managed to catch herself on the last branch to the ground. Swinging her leg over, Emma rolled off the branch, and fell to her knees on the ground with an 'oof!'

Killian nearly collapsed with relief. Falling to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her in a bone-crushing hug, only relenting after the tenth time that Emma repeated the phrase 'I'm fine! You can let go now.'

"What were you thinking?" Killian demanded, his cheeks flushed bright red. "You could have—you would have—Emma!"

Emma rolled her eyes, though there was a pleased smile decorating her lips. "You saved me," she told him, smiling sweetly. And then she did something that had Killian blushing from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. Emma leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you," Emma whispered sincerely. Killian stammered for a moment, helping Emma to her feet.

Dropping into a low bow that had Emma giggling, Killian said in as deep a voice as he could muster, "As you wish, my lady." It was Emma's favorite line from the Princess Bride movie she'd made him watch—and he'd secretly enjoyed. Straightening, he took her hand and led her around the garden, where he thought he'd seen something moving.

At the back of the garden, there was another door and another table, with another four things sitting before it. These ones were boxes.

The first box sounded like it was squeaking—like there was a small animal trapped inside the small tortoiseshell box. It was only the size of Killian's palm, and it was embellished with gold. Killian immediately went to open that one, not even giving the others consideration—if there was some animal trapped inside, then he just had to let it out, didn't he?

Lifting the small, round lid, Killian opened the box—and watched in amazement as the smallest, most vibrantly colored hummingbird flew out. Its wings were tie-dyed with various brilliant colors; neon green, ocean blue, white, with spots of lemon all across. Its chest was lime green, and its beak was a bright pink. The little creature swooped once, twice, three times around Killian's head, before flitting back into the box. The lid shut magically on its own. Normally, Killian would have been surprised by that—but this whole scenario was freaking him out. Nothing made sense, and so he'd decided to just forgo a logical mindset. Instead, he turned towards Emma, who was perusing the boxes carefully.

Killian finally took the time to look at the three other options he'd had.

The second box had an ornate lock, though a decorated silver key was right in front of it. It was gleaming and black, and had a run embossed on the top. For some reason, Killian knew this to be the mark of Merlin—though he had no idea who this 'Merlin' was, or why he was so important to warrant a locked box.

The third box was huge, ornate, and shaped like a golden casket. On the side, there was an inscription written in cursive. Luckily, they'd just learned how to read and write cursive in class. 'Inside you will find the grandest of secret knowledge—but be warned, for my contents also give way to the most dangerous of temptations.' Killian hoped that Emma does not pick that one.

Luckily—and predictably—Emma seemed to be focused on the fourth and final box. It was simple, unassuming, and made of pewter. Scratched haphazardly onto its surface was a small inscription; 'I open only for the worthy.' The inscription was what clued Killian in to Emma's desire to try and open it. Of _course_ she would try this box, if only to see if she was actually worthy.

Cautiously, her fingers itched towards the box. She hesitated briefly, but then her expression solidified. When the box opened, Killian couldn't help the swell of pride that rose in him. Of course Emma would be able to open it—she was quite obviously worthy, and anyone who thought different was wrong.

The look of pleasure on her face was apparent. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her eyes were shining happily. Carefully, she removed the contents from the box—a necklace with a silver swan pendant, and a small silver key.

* * *

"Will you…" Emma carefully started, holding up the necklace. Killian grinned, his dimples showing, and took the necklace without a word. Emma turned around, feeling her cheeks heat up, and let him put the swan necklace on her. It was really pretty; the swan looked like it was swimming, was about as big as the pad of her thumb, and had a tiny diamond set in for its it. The pendant was strung on a thin silver chain that glittered in the light of the garden.

"Thank you."

Together, they looked at the small key in Emma's hand. It looked like any normal house key. Frowning, Emma walked over to the door and saw that the handle now had a lock on it. Using the key, Emma managed to open the door—but when she tried to pull the key out, the door slammed shut before either of them could go through it. Deciding the leave the key, they trudged on to the new path set before them.

Emma couldn't deny that she'd been nervous about trying to open the box. What if she hadn't been worthy? Would it really have remained closed to her? How, then, would they have gotten out of the garden? Emma didn't want to think about it. And anyways, it _had_ opened. When it opened, a thrill of pleasure had shot through her—she was _worthy_. She felt validated, somehow.

Now was not the time to think of such things, though. Now, she needed to work on getting herself and Killian out of this… _maze._

Before them, there were four paths. Emma immediately rounded on Killian.

"This time, I say which one we follow, okay?"

Killian swallowed, but nodded. Emma smiled back, and studied the four paths before her carefully.

One path was bright and sunny, wide enough for five people to walk side-by-side easily, and more of a grassy path that was more worn-down than the surrounding grass.

The one right next to it was a stark contrast. Emma couldn't wrap her mind around how different the two were; while the first was sunny and bright, the second was dark, as if it was nighttime only along that road, though it was lit with lanterns. It was an alleyway, in fact, though Emma couldn't see where it ended, or where the buildings began. The whole situation was strange—Emma decided she wasn't going to care about the logistics of anything.

The third path was more inviting. It clearly had many twists and turns, was strewn about with crackling leaves, and was winding through inviting woods. Emma knew this would be the one she would choose, but she turned to the last one just in case.

It was a cobbled street, lined with old, worn-out buildings. While the road held the promise of intrigue, the third road tempted her the most. Taking a step towards that one, Emma had made her choice.

"Phew!" Killian exclaimed behind her. "And here I thought you were going to choose the alley!"

Emma snorted. "I'm not stupid, Killy."

Killian grumbled behind her, but after a moment, he caught up to hold her hand again. Emma didn't say anything, only clenched his hand tightly as they followed the first bend.

"Did you hear that?" Killian whispered in Emma's ear, his breath tickling her neck. Emma shuddered, but stilled—she'd heard it too.

There was a large, rustling noise in the bushes to their left. Emma inched closer, but Killian quickly tugged her back.

"What are you doing?" He whispered furiously. "We're going to be murdered! We need a—a weapon, of sorts!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Well, we're never going to know if we don't look for the noise, now will we? Come on." She tugged him closer to the bush, and together they edge closer…closer…closer…

Really, Emma expected something to jump out at them any second, and was ultimately surprised when she only found a rather large hole. A rather large hole…that had something glittering at the bottom. Peering in, Emma tried to keep her balance. But the hole had a strange sort of gravity, and before she knew it, she and Killian were shrieking like banshees as they fell to its glittering purple depths.

* * *

Killian almost gave another shout. They were back where they'd started, at Emma's house. His hand was even poised over the mouse, ready to click again. He didn't think it was possible. He would have thought that none of it was real—if not for the glinting swan he saw resting on Emma's collarbone. They stared at each other carefully, neither wanting to speak first—when they were abruptly distracted by a flash on the screen.

There were two banners that had popped up on screen. The first read "Congratulations, Killian! Hufflepuff is your house. 'You belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal; those patient Hufflepuffs are true, and unafraid of toil'.

The second banner read something similar. "Congratulations, Emma! Gryffindor is your house. 'You belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart; their daring, nerve, and chivalry, set Gryffindor apart'.

Emma and Killian stared at each other for several long minutes. Many questions filtered through the air between them, though none were spoken. They probably would have sat there, silent, forever, if it wasn't for David coming in and interrupting their awe.

"Come on, kids! I've taken the day off so we can all enjoy the fair!" David grinned, pleased to be the one delivering the good news. "Get ready, we're heading out now."

When he left, Emma and Killian stared at each other once more. Finally, Emma was the one to break the silence.

"We'll…discuss this later. Right now, let's, uh, go to the fair and…forget that this happened?"

Killian nodded quickly. He couldn't have agreed with her decision more. Taking a deep breath, Killian bolted out of his chair and sprinted towards the stairs, calling behind him, "Race you to see who can get their shoes on quickest!"

"Last one's a rotten egg!" Emma added, hurrying up behind him. The swan was an unfamiliar, but reassuring, weight at her collarbone. And for once, she didn't question it.

* * *

Later, as she was setting the table for dinner, Mary Margaret saw that the webpage Emma and Killian had been looking at was still open. Narrowing her eyes, she edged towards the computer and peered at the screen.

"Sorting hat quiz?" It piqued her interest. Perhaps she and David would try that out sometime—she knew he would probably end up being in Gryffindor, but Mary Margaret had always wondered if she would have been in some other house. Shrugging, she saved the webpage, before turning off the computer and hurrying back into the living room—it sounded as if baby Neal had woken up from his nap.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing that! Let me know in a review, if you want. Sorry if my representation of eleven-year olds is a little off. I have an eleven-year-old brother, so I was just trying to think of what he would do in the situation. Thank you for reading!

-Ashlee Frame


End file.
